


Odds Are

by Ptolemia



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope
Genre: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), Angst, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Post-Canon, Spoilers, because star wars timelines, but also... during-canon for anh, i cannot emphasise this enough! lots of spoilers for rogue one!!!!, make of that what u will..., multi-chapter, oh and the rating will almost certainly increase so uh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-08 17:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8855020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ptolemia/pseuds/Ptolemia
Summary: The glaring light of the Death Star's blast moves through the water, brighter and brighter, and Jyn Erso closes her eyes, clings on tight, and waits to die.And then, against all sense of probability or reason, she doesn't.This is the story of what happens after that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I came straight out of the cinema, wept profusely, came home, dried my tears, and wrote this. New chapters should be up pretty soon, I'm mostly just breaking it up so that it flows better. Probably will be about 3/4 chapters in this! Enjoy ^_^
> 
> and please come yell at me abt Rogue One on my blog - moist-von-lipwig.tumblr.com

The glaring light of the Death Star's blast moves through the water, brighter and brighter, and Jyn Erso closes her eyes, clings on tight, and waits to die.

 

And then, against all sense of probability or reason, she doesn't.

 

It happens so fast and so unexpectedly that she can hardly gather her senses to comprehend what happened when, or why, or how, but many years later she will explain it as being something along the lines of falling, and then forgetting to fall, and never hitting the ground at all.

 

This is how it happens: she closes her eyes, exhausted and vindicated and willing, in that moment, to die. She thinks, suddenly, of stardust, of becoming stardust, along with Cassian and Chirrut and Baze and Bodhi and all the others who she never had a chance to really meet. And along with her _father_ , finally, and her mother. And she smiles. And then-

 

And then the blast hits, only it doesn't. She gasps, and feels Cassian hold her tighter, for a second, as the explosion roars... past them? Around them? _Through_ them, somehow? It feels like none of those things, and like all of them, all at once. For a moment they're floating, and the scene blurs as her eyes flicker open – it seems as though stars and lights flash past, and the whole universe tilts, just slightly. They're weightless, impossibly, unhurt. The world fades away. Even the noise is dimmed. The crystal around her neck burns hot, but she doesn't dare pull away from Cassian for fear of falling out of whatever strange force is keeping them safe.

 

Force. _Force_. Well, shit. She thinks, maybe, she hears a distant echo of words she's heard before - of 'the force is with me, and I am one with the force' - but perhaps she's imagining that. Perhaps she's the one saying it, even. Either way, for a fraction of a moment, she believes it, really and truly believes as sincerely as she's ever believed anything – she feels it, somehow, deep in whatever part of her it is that makes her herself. It's real, and she feels it, and it's like drowning in starlight.

 

Then it's over, and the crystal flares white-hot, and Jyn and Cassian both jerk back, pulling away instinctively in the face of the sudden piercing pain of the heat. She looks down, tugging the crystal frantically away from her body, and sees that it has burnt a small but clean hole straight through her shirt, leaving a neat-angled burn on the centre of her chest which, frankly, hurts like _shit._

 

Then she looks up, at Cassian (sat limply in front of her, sporting a similar burn and a dazed expression which she suspects must also mimic her own), and then at the sky, and then all around them and then back down at the crystal, now perfectly cool and innocuous in her hand. And then – because they're alive, goddamn it, they're _alive_ \- she woops, barely able to hear her own delighted shriek through the pounding of her heart in her ears. Around them, dust is settling over a scene of unthinkable destruction – chunks of rock and rubble where there were once people, and, water, and trees, but for now she can't think of anything other than the incredible miracle of their survival. Later, there will be time to mourn. But for now-

“We made it!” she hears herself screech, scrambling to her feet and leaping for the sheer joy of being, “What the fuck! What the fuck!”

Cassian gazes up at her, eyes wide, and then after a moment echoes his own, much quieter, “What the _fuck_.”

She offers him her hand, and hauls him up onto his feet. She beams. “We- what the- ha! Ha! The crystal must have...” she weighs it in her hand, shaking her head in sheer incredulity, “I dunno. It did something right, though, huh?”

"Guess it did." He eyes her, clearly thoughtful. "I guess it did."

She grins. "And look at you! Feeling better?"

He smiles back, weakly. "I, uh-" but then his face pales, and he stumbles slightly, leaning into her. “Mmmph,” he says, “I- shit...”

Her smile drops. “Are you- wait, hang on, put your arm over my shoulders, here you go- you're ok, right? Cassian? You're alright, aren't you?”

“I'm gonna say... no,” he mutters, tight jawed.

"What do you mean? You didn't- it was just a little fall, right? C'mon, you're fine."

Cassian wavers, visibly struggling to stay upright. "I'm maybe gonna suggest that it was, uh... maybe more of a fall than I realised." 

“You better not,” she growls, hauling him closer so she can take the bulk of his weight onto her shoulders and hip, “C'mon, move out. We'll get you some meds to keep you going when we get to...”

 

They both gaze around, and for the first time Jyn begins to see, to really see, just what the Death Star has done. The earth around them is totally levelled, a flat plain of dust and ash. She can't even see _bodies_ , which- well, maybe there aren't any. There's certainly no trace left of any sort of structure which would suggest human habitation of any kind, let alone a whole military base. Even the sea, as far as she can tell, has been evaporated in the vicinity – certainly, the closest water she can now see is a winking glimmer on the far, far horizon.

“Shit,” she says. “We'll- we're gonna look for a ship, okay? Get you off-planet.”

Cassian tries to laugh, but it cuts off with an ominously damp splutter. “You see a ship anywhere, Erso?”

She shakes her head, numbly. “No... no this isn't...” her blood runs cold, then, heart stuttering. She was ready to die, just minutes ago, but to have life held out like this and then taken- no. No. It can't happen. It won't.

Cassian rests his head on her shoulder. "Jyn," he says, softly. "Come on."  There's a growing certainty in his tone that Jyn really doesn't like the sound of.

"What? Come on what?"

He hesitates, one hand clinging on to her as though he'll die if he doesn't (which might actually be truer than Jyn wants to admit), one hand holding his chest as though that alone will keep his failing body held together. His breathing is ragged, she realises, and not just from adrenaline. There's a nasty wheezy splutter every time he breathes in, and an even nastier rattle when he breathes out. After a moment he squares his jaw, and says, “Better leave me here. Head north. There's settlements that way. Food, water. Transport out, maybe. It's two days walk, but if you move fast-”

“No! No, we didn't- don't be ridiculous. We'll go together.”

He sighs. Then he winces, and coughs another horrible, sickly cough. Jyn watches in horror as he gingerly wipes a thin trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. “C'mon,” he says, shaking his head knowingly, “I'm not gonna make it. Don't hold yourself back.”

She grits her teeth and takes a step forward, dragging him with her. And then another. And another. “I'm not leaving you,” she grunts. “You think I watched that- whatever that was with the crystal- you think we went through that for me to _leave_ you here?”

“I don't think we went through that for you to die in a damn desert because you don't have the common sense to leave dead weight-”

“Shut up!” she snaps, and then, more softly, “Shut up. I'm fine. Gonna haul you out of here. Get you healed up. Find the rebels. Save the galaxy.”

He smiles, at that. “Oh, just sticking to the easy stuff, then, huh?”

“Shut up,” she says, again, only this one comes out a lot fonder than she meant it to.

 

He doesn't reply. Too focused on walking, maybe.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As posted from the train, with really REALLY janky wifi, so if you spot formatting errors, that's probably why - I'll clean up tonight when I get home. Enjoy!

They walk on through what remains of the base for what can't really be more than an hour or two (and if Jyn had to hazard a guess, she'd probably call it closer to one than to anything more than that) – but it feels like a lifetime. The adrenaline carries them both for the first stretch, but the heat and the glare and the sobering sight of the devastated earth around them soon sees any residual buzz wearing off. Cassian grits his teeth and says nothing, but his breathing gets steadily heavier and heavier – and Jyn, now the high of victory is wearing off, realises that she's hardly in perfect shape herself. It's nothing a couple days rest wouldn't fix – a few scrapes, some nasty bruises, maybe a broken rib – but fairly soon she's all but carrying Cassian, and the effort puts more strain on her exhausted body than she'd anticipated.

 

“We need to rest,” says Cassian, eventually; “I can't-”

Jyn shakes her head. “We have to get out of the sun, at least. If we can reach the edge of the blast radius there might be trees – fresh water, even.”

Cassian gives a disbelieving little huff, but makes no further effort to argue the point. On some level, both of them know that if they sit down now then he, at least, won't be getting back up.

 

So they shuffle on, silently and painfully slow, steadily moving forward in hope of- well, in hope of who knows what. Just _in hope_. Of something. Anything.

 

And 'anything', as it happens, arrives rather abruptly just as the scorching hot sun begins to pass behind a thin veil of cloud, in the form of a small handful of ships in various states of disrepair, appearing abruptly out of hyperspace and scurrying down to land among the wreckage of the base. They don't all appear at once, and they scatter as soon as they get close to the ground. Not a fleet, then.

“Scavengers,” grunts Cassian. “Huh. Must have got tipped off about the battle... well, there's not gonna be a lot for them here; nothing left, after that. Not their lucky day.”

Jyn grins, slightly wildly. “Who cares? It's _our_ lucky day. What did I tell you? We're gonna make it.”

Cassian huffs. “Sure. Good luck finding somebody here who's gonna take a pair of wanted rebels on board without payment upfront.”

“We'll make it work,” says Jyn, with a set to her jaw that suggests that if the universe is going to have to bend to get her what she wants, she'll damn well bend it.

 

They make their way towards the nearest ship, a small reddish affair that looks a little better maintained than some of the others, when Jyn abruptly halts, almost tripping Cassian straight into the dirt.

He wheezes, grabbing onto her for support with both hands, now. “What?”

She cocks her head. “I have... a feeling.”

“A feeling?”

She frowns, and gazes slightly to their right, where another ship, flat and greyish and in vaguely shoddy state has just made landing. She points at it. “That one?”

Cassian bends forward slightly, breathing laboured. He coughs up another glob of blood, red and unsettling against his ashen face. “You- seriously? Can we just... pick the nearest...”

Jyn hesitates. “It's not that much further. I just have this-” she shakes her head. “I can't explain.”

Cassian eyes her for a moment, then nods. There's trust, there, new and tentative but real, after the events of the past few days. “Alright,” he says, after a moment. “Your shout.”

 

They make their slow, painful way toward the grey ship, and Jyn waves her free hand in greeting as the hatch opens and a man walks out. His hand hovers over his blaster as he sees them, and he shouts something back into the ship before beginning to approach.

“My friend is injured!” she yells, as soon as they're close enough that the guy has half a chance of hearing; “Please, we need-”

He waves a dismissive hand at her, striding over with a frustrated glare. “You wanna get away from my ship, huh?”

“My friend is hurt,” says Jyn, “Listen-”

“Great, good for him. You'll _both_ be hurt if you don't back off my patch.”

Cassian laughs, weakly. “Hah. Your patch of what, friend? Of dust? There's nothing here.”

“Not what I heard.”

“Then you heard-” he convulses, letting off a loud, hacking cough. “Ah. Apologies, then - you heard wrong.”

The man does not look impressed. “I don't know what you're playing at-”

“He's injured,” interjects Jyn.

“You say that,” says the man, “like you think I care.”

“He needs help,” says Jyn, staring him down. “Please, we wouldn't ask if we weren't desperate.”

The man maintains his glare for a moment, then deflates slightly as Cassian makes another horrible rattle, clutching onto Jyn for support. “Alright, I- look, I can give you some crap from the first aid kit, bit of water, some supplies. But you gotta go the hell away once you've got it, alright? I'm not gonna find anything if I waste time now.”

“Your first aid kit isn't going to cut it,” snaps Jyn, “He's- you see him? He's bleeding on the inside, he needs proper medical attention, he needs- he needs to get off-planet.”

“You want the med kit or not?” says the man. “It's more than I outta bloody give you...”

 

Then he turns back toward his ship and yells, “Hey, fuzzball! Get over here, I need a hand.”

After a moment, a large and rather grumpy looking wookie emerges from the ship, and makes a dissatisfied sort of growl. It waves a wrench at the man.

“Yeah, I know, I know, you wanna get on with your tinkering. I promise, this'll only take a minute. Can you stick a bandage on this guy and then send these nice folk on their way? They're causing _trouble_.”

The wookie stomps over, throwing the wrench onto the rubble and making soft grumbling noises as it goes. Then it catches sight of Cassian, and its expression – as far as Jyn can tell, at least – seems to change. It hunkers down before him, and glances at his pale face, the sheen of sweat over his features, the way he's hunched over Jyn and wincing, just slightly. It touches his stomach carefully, and looks alarmed when he yelps in response.

Then it turns to the man and yowls, very sternly.

The man shakes his head. “So what? It's not our business.”

Another growl.

“Yeah, we can 'just leave them'. It's not our fault they're-”

The wookie straightens itself up to its full height and continues to growl.

The man seems unperturbed. “Yeah, sure, that's very noble of you, but do you know how much we owe Jabba? If we don't find something worth at least a couple thousand credits before we head back to-”

The wookie rumbles.

“Oh, right, I'm sorry,” says the man, sounding anything but, “You're right – _you_ don't owe Jabba anything. But _I_ do! You want me to die, huh?”

The wookie rolls its eyes.

“Well, I might! We're not the bloody Ewok Protection Society, I'm not here to pick up strays, and anyway... well...” the man tails off before the wookie's stern glare.

 

He sighs, clearly resigned, snaps, "Fine, you win," at the wookie, and then turns back to Jyn and Cassian. “Well, it's your lucky day. My buddy here seems to have developed a _conscience_ , for some reason. Get in the ship, we'll drop you at the nearest space station. And- and that's it, okay?”

Jyn nods furiously. “Yes- yes, thank you, we-”

The man waves a hand at her. “Oh, save it.” He snaps his fingers at the wookie. “Go on then, you want to help, you can take your new friend on board and see what you can do to help him. And _you_ ,” he says, turning to Jyn, “You can help me scout around to see if I can't at least find something here worth...” he tails off, looking despondently at the miles upon miles of rubble stretching out around them. Several of the other ships have already taken off. He sighs. “Oh, screw it. This was a crap tip-off, anyway. Alright, everyone on board, everyone on board. Let's just get this over with.”

Jyn hands Cassian over to the wookie with a vague sense of trepidation, but the huge creature picks him up with surprising gentleness, and she has to admit that being carried is probably kinder on him right now than the half-walk half-drag they'd established over the past few hours.

She turns to the man and nods, awkwardly. “I... thank you. We owe you-”

“Some _money_ , hopefully,” he grunts, then sticks his hand out slightly reluctantly. “Han Solo, at your service.”

She takes it. “Jyn Erso. Pleasure to meet you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I could write essays as fast as I'm writing this fic... man, my life would be so much better. Anyway, I'm thinking there's probably gonna be one or two more chapters of this, then I'm knee deep in FinnPoe 'til after Christmas easily because I've got HEAPS of prompts to finish, but I've honestly fallen so in love with this ship, so I'm sure there will be more SOMETHING (no clue what yet) related to rogue one forthcoming sometime in the new year! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you all so much for your lovely comments - they honestly motivate & encourage me so much. You're all darlings <3

“Jyn Erso,” Han is still grumbling nearly three hours later, “Jyn goddamn _Erso_. And the Cassian guy too, I mean, we might as well paint a target on our backs!”

The wookie (who, Jyn has learned, is called Chewbacca, but he seems to prefer Chewie) makes what seem to be soothing noises, and pats Han's shoulder with all the delicacy he can muster before trundling off out of the room. Presumably, he's headed to check on Cassian, who's sleeping fitfully in a bunk down the corridor.

“I am calm!” snaps Han, as Chewie disappears round the corner; “I mean, sure, we have two of the most wanted people in the galaxy on board and all that, but, sure, I'm _calm_.”

“Sorry,” says Jyn, although after listening to several hours of Han's grumbling she's feeling considerably less genuine in her apologies than she was at the start.

“You should be! Next thing you're gonna be telling me you've got that damn pilot guy everyone was looking for a few weeks back hidden in your back pocket or something.”

 

Jyn freezes, feeling the blood drain from her face. “Bodhi?”

Han must catch something in her tone of voice, because he tilts his head a little and says, “Sure. Yeah, that guy. You know him?”

“ _Knew_ him. He didn't-” she shakes her head. “You saw Scarif.”

“Huh. He was there?”

She nods.

“Huh,” says Han, again, and then, “Well, I'm sorry.”

“He was a good guy,” Jyn hears herself say – she's not even sure _why_ , it's not like Han cares, but somehow she feels like somebody ought to hear as much. Like she owes it to Bodhi, wherever he is now.

“Yeah,” says Han, “Yeah. They always are.” And then he turns back to the controls, shifting slightly uncomfortably in his seat. But he doesn't press the issue, and Jyn's glad of it.

 

Chewie bustles back in after a few minutes, and proceeds to yowl at Han in what seems like... distress?

Jyn jumps up. “Is Cassian- what's happening?”

Han frowns. “Chewie's trying to- hang on, slow down buddy, say that again?”

Chewie makes several rather terse yipping noises, and gestures at Jyn, then the door, then Jyn again.

“What?” she says, “Han, what did he say?”

“He wants you to go sit with your boyfriend for a bit,” says Han.

“Cassian?”

“That's what I said, isn't it?”

“No you-” Jyn shakes her head. “It doesn't matter. Why is- what's going on?”

“Apparently he's woken up and now he's throwing a tantrum about taking any more medication off Chewie.”

“What? Why?”

Han shrugs. “He's delirious, by the sounds of it, and fuzzball over here _can_ be a little intimidating. Until you get to know him, of course.”

Chewie growls menacingly.

“... and also after you get to know him,” says Han. “Anyway, look, go see what you can do for the guy. He might listen to you.”

Jyn hums sceptically. “He _might_.” But she follows after Chewie without further protest.

 

Cassian is slumped over a bunk, covers tangled around him, and even from the doorway Jyn can tell he looks worse than when she last saw him. He's sweating, eyes rolling back into his head, face horribly pale and unnaturally greyish. His breathing is painful to listen to, every inhale and exhale a visible struggle.

“Is he-” begins Jyn, but Chewie just motions her forward, clearly impatient.

Cassian raises his head slightly as she approaches, wincing at the effort, “Jyn?” he says, “Jyn! I thought...”

“I'm fine,” she says, folding her arms sternly. “Lie back down. You'll hurt yourself.”

Cassian lets his head flop back with a heavy sigh.

Jyn wants to hold his hand, for a moment – as much to reassure herself as to reassure him, but she's never been much good at being gentle, so instead she just tuts, and says, “Any reason you're not taking your medicine?”

He gazes blankly at her. “We- where are the others? Have you seen them? We need to-”

“What others?”

“Rogue One!”

Jyn looks down at him, at his shaking hands and his wild eyes, and can't bear to tell him. Let him forget, she thinks, just for a while. That's probably for the best. “They're somewhere else,” she says. “You need to take the medicine Chewie gives you. And sleep, if you can. We'll be out of here soon.”

“We have to- to get to the...” he tails off, frowning. “The plans. We... the plans...”

She touches his shoulder carefully, wary of hurting him. “Cassian. It's fine. Now just... do what the damn wookie tells you to do, ok?”

He nods, dumbly, and lets Chewie feed him two small red pills and a spoonful of something foul-smelling which Jyn recognises as a sleeping draught. It's not uncommon to see soldiers needing that, anyway. She wonders if Cassian does, back home. She wonders what exactly he might have done to need it.

 

She waits as he slips back into a fitful sleep, his rambling becoming less and less coherent until eventually it peters out entirely, and his eyes flutter closed. He has nice eyelashes, she finds herself thinking, absurdly. As if any of that matters right now. But he does, and she notices, and she notices the fact that she notices, and files it away for further consideration. She watches him for a few moments more, brushing his damp hair off his forehead, adjusting the blankets so that he's properly covered up. She refills the glass by his bed from a nearby pitcher. She realises, rather abruptly, that Chewie has left the room some time ago.

 

She bounces on her heels for a minute, restless. Somebody should keep an eye on him, she thinks, but watching him toss and turn and whine softy in his sleep is unsettling her. Worrying her.

 

So she turns and leaves, and heads back towards where she thinks she remembers the cockpit is - only to end up in the main hold, where Han is now sat down at a small roundish table, grumpily eating some kind of... ambiguous slop. Ah, ship rations. A special kind of hell. Chewie is nowhere to be seen – perhaps he's piloting the ship? Jyn certainly hopes he is.

Han grunts a greeting as she approaches. “Your boyfriend doing good?”

Jyn frowns. “You keep calling him that.”

“Sure. Should I call him something else?”

“Cassian.”

“So he's not your boyfriend?”

Jyn narrows her eyes. “Why do you want to know?”

“Curiosity,” says Han. “Also, neither of you's bad looking. Just saying, but it never hurt a guy to ask...”

Jyn snorts. “I'm not interested, and he's not conscious.”

“It's that bad, huh?”

She nods.

“Shit,” he says, and then he shrugs, “Well, anyway - there you go. Curiosity sated. Do you want food?”

 

After a moment's hesitation (because however hungry she is that stuff really does look _foul_ ) Jyn nods, and they eat for a while in companionable silence, Han leafing through a book with a contemplative little frown on his face.

“You reckon your boyfriend can hold on for another day?” he asks, after a few minutes.

“He's not my-” begins Jyn, and then she frowns. “Well I don't _think_ he is. Um.”

Han raises an eyebrow. “I'm gonna suggest that this is probably the kind of thing where he is or he isn't.”

Jyn shrugs.

“Have you tried asking him?”

“What?! No! No, it's not... uh. I mean, maybe it's nothing. Only- well, we- earlier- we'd just helped save the galaxy, sort of, and-”

“Thanks, I guess,” says Han, rather dryly.

Jyn ignores him. “So, we saved the day, and then, and then we were going to die and... uh, and... we didn't kiss.”

Han gives her a Look with a capital 'L'. “You... _didn't_ kiss?”

“But we almost did! I think. I don't know. I mean, we haven't known each other that long and there's been a lot of other stuff going on, so it's not exactly a priority and- well, he also tried to kill my dad, I think, and- I don't know. I don't even know why I'm telling you this!”

“I have a trustworthy face,” Han deadpans. “In all seriousness, though, that sounds like a mess, kid. Good luck with it. See,” he kicks his legs up onto the table with a cocky grin, “This is why I'm never gonna get hitched. Or experience any emotion other than 'money'. Or have kids, for that matter. Way too messy. Always ends in drama. He-” Han frowns, “He tried to shoot your dad?”

“Well, I'm not dead sure if-”

Han shakes his head. “Messy. It's messy. Free and single, that's the way forward. Also, never do nice things for people. Always ends terribly- I mean, look at me! Do you have any idea what the price on your head is right now?”

 

Jyn stiffens. “No. You're not-”

“Relax, I'm not about to hand you over."

"Oh. Well... good."

"I've got no love for the Empire, money or no money. Scumbags, the lot of them. They had my last shipment off me and now I'm down, uh...” he shrugs, trying and failing not to look worried, “Well, quite a lot of credits, anyway. I'll work something out.”

“There's always the rebellion,” says Jyn; “They could probably use the fire-power.”

Han snorts. “Not in a million years, sweetheart.”

“It was worth a try.”

“Sure. Anyway, point is, you two are way too big a deal for me to just ditch you any old place. Not in good conscience, anyway. The only thing is, the port I have in mind is gonna take a while to get to. You reckon-"

"He'll be fine," says Jyn, willing herself to be true. "He _has_ to be."

Han grunts. "Good. So I reckon our best bet is Mos Eisley. I know a guy there who can patch your- I mean, Cassian- up pretty cheap, and nobody will ask too many questions. And there's enough rebels pissing around recruiting there that you should be able to hitch a lift back to... wherever it is you're going. Sound good?”

“Yes. I- thank you.”

He shrugs. “What can I say? Maybe if you guys win this, you'll remember me when you're rich as sin and running the galaxy.”

Jyn laughs. “Yeah, maybe. Maybe.”

 

They eat in silence for another few moments, but when Han stands to leave Jyn says, “And... what will you do? When we get there.”

Han shrugs. “Pick up another job. One that _pays_ , preferably. And definitely one that's much less trouble. Something simple, and straightforward. No rebels, no Empire, no working for free...” he sighs, contentedly. "Should be relaxing."

 

And then he heads off into the cockpit, and Jyn is left alone with her thoughts and her food. Neither, of which, she finds, are particularly pleasant.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Sorry it's been a while, I've been hellishly busy over Christmas and then, of course, everything with Carrie has made me far too sad to write Star Wars for a while. I hope you're all doing alright - I watched An New Hope yesterday and it really did make me feel a little better so I can certainly recommend that.
> 
> There's a chapter or two still in this, but they might be a little slower to come than the first few; as ever, your comments & kudos mean the world and I'll endeavour to work on this as fast as I can, time and the muse permitting... ^_^

 

Mos Eisley is, not to put too fine a point on it, a shithole. Jyn loves it. It's exactly the kind of dubious space-port she's spent half her life trawling around, crowded and stinking and full of shady little bars, perfect for laying low.

 

The 'friend' who Han drops them off with is a tiny alien – Jyn doesn't recognise her species – called Maz. She's old, maybe even older than she appears if the way she talks to Han is anything to go by, and clearly enjoys making Chewie uncomfortable – at least, that's what Jyn _thinks_ the strange innuendo she keeps shooting his way is about. Maz seems to be accompanied almost everywhere by a rather stout Twi'lek woman called Jekha, who, like Maz, wears an enormously thick pair of spectacles and blinks with unnerving frequency; Jekha doesn't seem overly fond of Chewie, which Maz is clearly _very_ amused by. The house here is Jekha's, but Maz seems to be in charge - Jyn gathers that she has a somewhat more impressive residence elsewhere, but that it's currently under close Imperial watch, hence her presence in Mos Eisley. Both women make for undeniably strange company, but Jekha seems amenable enough to patching Cassian up, and Maz waves Jyn aside when she tries to broach the subject of payment.

“Oh, I wouldn't worry about that - you'll want to save your credits to get off-planet. Who's your commanding officer? I'll send them a bill once you're out of here and sorted.”

Jyn shrugs. “Dunno. I wasn't exactly-”

Maz rolls her eyes, “Oh, if I had a credit for every time somebody reminded me what a mess that rebellion of yours is...” she waves her hand impatiently, “Never mind, I'll send it to Mon Mothma. She knows what she's doing, even if nobody else does. Now, if you don't mind, I have some equipment to get working. You sit with your friend and make sure he doesn't go anywhere. Or die. Don't let him do that, please. I _hate_ when people die in the living room.”

 

And with that she scurries out of the room with a frown, followed by Jekha, who is busily taking notes on her clipboard as she goes.

 

Jyn turns back to Cassian, currently asleep on the couch where Chewie had left him, and sighs. He doesn't seem to be any _worse_ than he was yesterday, but he's barely been conscious two hours out of the last twenty-four, and Jyn doesn't have to be a doctor to know that that's not a good sign.

Han pats her shoulder as Chewie turns to leave. “Hey, he'll be fine, I wouldn't sweat it. Jekha knows what she's about. And Maz being here is a good sign, too- I would have thought she'd have moved on by now but...” him and Chewie exhange a glance, and Chewie shrugs. “Anyway,” says Han, “It's a good sign. Cassian should do just fine.”

“I sure hope so. But, look- thanks for everything, Han. And Chewie. We won't forget you.”

Chewie waves at her from the doorway.

“Well,” says Han, smugly, “that's no surprise. We do tend to make an impression.” He glances at his comm, and frowns. “And we really oughta get going.”

Jyn nods. “You both stay safe, alright?”

“Oh, I wouldn't worry about us. Chewie found this old guy who'll pay stupid money to get him and some kid off-planet, so...”

“Easy money, huh?”

Han winks. “Damn right. My favourite kind.”

 

And with that, him and Chewie disappear out into the crowded street beyond Jekha's dark, low-ceilinged living room, and close the door behind them, and are gone.

 

After a while Jekha returns, with a young human and another Twi'lek who both help her carry Cassian out of the room on a makeshift-looking stretcher. Jyn, having been flapped away by an irritated Jekha when she attempted to follow, goes back to sitting distractedly on the arm of the couch. Outside, she can hear the rumble of ships and of passing people in the street, but it's muted – despite the fact that it's only just past noon, the shutters and curtains are all closed. She wonders how long she's been waiting, but can't immediately see any kind of clock in the room, and is sure she wouldn't be encouraged to go wandering around the house alone. Instead, she pulls the crystal out of her pocket – the cord having been burned through earlier when it did, well, whatever the hell it had done on Scarif – and she turns it over slowly in her hands. It looks, as far as she can tell, exactly the same as it's ever looked, plain and inert and fairly unremarkable. It's neither unusually hot nor unusually cold, and no trace of whatever strange power it had shown a few days back seems visible, now. Strange.

 

She raises a hand, almost without thinking, to the mark on her chest where the crystal had burned a livid red scar. Nothing happens.

 

She's still sat like that, one hand on the crystal, one on the burn scar, when Jekha returns, stripping off a bloodied pair of rubber gloves and shoving them unceremoniously into the pocket of her overcoat.

Maz comes trotting after her. “That's pretty,” she says, nodding at the crystal. “Kyber, hmm? I'd keep it hidden away, if you're planning on keeping it – Mos Eisley can be, hmm, what's the word...”

"Hazardous?" suggests Jekha; "Unpredictable? Dangerous?"

"Full of thieves," says Maz.

"That's not one word," says Jekha, with a rather fond smile- and then, in a flash, she has her clipboard out again and is beckoning Jyn over; “Now, your companion – it's Andor, yes? - well, he'll recover just fine, by the way, though I must admit you're lucky I had a tank free. He'll need it. But what was I- oh, yes, if you'd just step this way-”

Jekha bustles out of the room, and Jyn turns to Maz, raising an eyebrow. “You have a bacta tank? Here?”

“ _A_ bacta tank? No. I have three.”

“Aren't those... expensive? And hard to come by, outside the empire.”

“Expensive? Yes. Hard to come by? Incredibly. So,” laughs Maz, “naturally I built a few myself. Now, if you would just come through this way, Jekha can patch up that rib of yours, too...”

 

“My rib?” says Jyn, following Maz through a beaded curtain and into the room beyond.

“It's broken, yes?”

“It- how do you know?”

Maz smiles, faintly. “Call it intuition. Now, sit here please. This will only take a moment.”

“Some intuition that lets you see broken ribs from the other side of the room.”

“Well, then let's call it _really_ excellent intuition.”

Jyn frowns as Jekha steps forward to run a scanner carefully over her side. “Hmm.”

“Hold still a moment,” says Jekha, continuing to swipe the scanner over Jyn with a little frown of concentration. “Now, this bacta patch is for your rib, so if you'd just lift your shirt a little for me I can- yes thank you- and... there we go! All done. Try not to lean on it, if you can, and I'll check it again tomorrow.”

 

At a nod from Maz, Jekha bustles back out of the room, beyond the beaded curtain. Maz hums, thoughtfully, and turns back to Jyn, fixing her with an enigmatic little frown. “And now, if I may ask,” she taps the crystal scar on Jyn's chest, “why do you match your friend?”

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

Maz raises an eyebrow. “Try me.”

 

So Jyn does. Perhaps that's unwise, but there's something about Maz that radiates a sort of gentle trustworthiness - something that invites conversation; confession, even. So Jyn tells the whole story – she doesn't go over the mission itself in much detail, of course, that's still too fresh, too raw, to go over in strange company without a friendly shoulder to lean on, or a gentle hand to hold. But she talks about about everything after that, about the explosion and the beach and the crystal and... and whatever had happened there. As she's telling it she finds herself uncharacteristically lost for words, trying to place feelings that can't quite be mapped and events that don't flow like they ought to.

Maz nods, slowly. “Hmm. I see. Yes. I suppose that makes as much sense as anything does, these days.”

“Then you believe me?”

“Why wouldn't I?”

Jyn shrugs. “I've been told I have an untrustworthy face.”

“But a trustworthy heart, under the right conditions, hmm?”

 "How would you know?"

Maz chuckles, softly. "In the same way that you knew to trust me with your story, or Han with your lives, or Jekha with Cassian - through the Force, girl."

"What? No, I'm not- I don't-"

"Don't you?"

"Look, I'm sorry, you've- you're wrong. I don't know anything about the Force, much less-"

"And yet, you just told me how you saved the lives of yourself and your friend - how do you think you did that, if not through the Force?"

 

Jyn blinks. “But the Kyber-”

“-is a conduit, as much as it is a power source. Kyber has power, yes, but it must be guided – which you did, yes?”

“Oh,” murmurs Jyn. Her jaw drops open.

“ _Oh_ indeed, Jyn Erso. Now, close your mouth, girl, or you'll be catching flies soon.”

Jyn closes her mouth.

“Well,” says Maz, clapping her hands, “I'm sure I couldn't tell you much that you don't know yourself, somewhere in there-” at which point she hops onto a nearby chair and stands on tiptoes to rap her knuckles sharply on Jyn's forehead- “Ah. Exciting times, these days, if you know how to swim with the tide.”

“What.” says Jyn, flatly.

Maz full-on _cackles_ at that. “Oh, give me my moment to be mysterious, won't you? So much more fun than being elbow-deep in guts, but you give me a guess as to which I get to do more often...”

“The guts?”

“It's _always_ guts,” says Maz, shaking her head sadly, “and you know, they all look the same after a while. Well, perils of falling in with a doctor, I suppose. Perhaps it is high time I took up occupation elsewhere... home calls, as always.” She sighs, and hops down from the chair, appearing to shake herself out of whatever reverie she was beginning to sink into. “Well! In any case, your Cassian is this way, come through, come through...”

“Wait, wait- hang on, you can't just drop a bombshell like that and not explain what-”

“Yes I can."

"But-"

Maz raises an imperious finger for silence. "I can and I will.”

Jyn rubs her temples and takes a deep breath. “Does the Force run a secondary line in making people completely annoying when you ask them to explain stuff? Is it like, awesome cosmic power with a side of nobody will ever be able to understand what the hell you're even trying to hint at, is that the pay-off?”

Maz ignores her.

 

The bacta-tank holding Cassian is the furthest from the door of the room Maz leads Jyn to, but she gravitates toward it without direction, almost without thought. She presses her hands against the tank. He's sleeping, still, but he looks calmer, somehow, like he's healthier already – and perhaps that's true. Jyn doesn't know shit about how bacta tanks work, but maybe he is. She hopes so. He's shirtless – mostly naked, actually – but Jyn's not much for blushing. And it's dark in here, anyway, so if she does go a little red, well, who's to know? As she looks, though, she realises how much his shirt had hidden of the bruising, and winces at the thought of dragging him through the sand like she had. It must have been agony. No wonder he'd thought he wouldn't- she swallows, cold suddenly. No, no need to think of that. It's over, he's here, he's safe. They both are. She rests her forehead against the tank, breathing slowly. In. Out. In. Out. There's a great livid flower of a bruise over his right hip and up over his belly, and another higher up surrounding the welt left where Kerric had shot him. She presses closer to the tank, scanning him over for further injuries, making a mental tally like she's going to find a way to make up for every single one, some day, somehow.

 

She hears Maz laugh, behind her. “You trying to push through the transparisteel, girl?”

Jyn ignores her.

After a moment, she feels a small hand gently pat her knee. “You can say here, if you promise not to touch anything. There's a mattress in the corner. Otherwise, there's rooms upstairs, but-”

“I'll stay here.”

“I thought you might,” says Maz. She gives Jyn's hip a comforting pat before she leaves – it's probably the highest point she can easily reach.

 

Anyway, Jyn stays just like that, with her hands and her forehead resting on the bacta tank, breathing slowly, for a long time. It's the first time in days – weeks, maybe – that she's had a chance to catch her breath. So she lets herself stand, and steady herself, and get her thoughts in order. The battle, the Death Star, the crystal, the Empire and the Republic, all this... stuff. Alright. Breathe in, thinks Jyn. And then out. And then in. And then out. She can deal with this in the morning. Or never! Never dealing with things sounds great, right now.

 

So she smiles to herself, and hauls the mattress Maz had offered right up in front of Cassian's bacta tank; she wants to be close. Wants to be keeping half an eye out, even if she's sleeping. She wants, absurdly enough, to _protect_ him, to keep him safe from harm.

 

And as she'd drifting off, Jyn realises that she's never had anything she wants to keep safe before.


End file.
